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CjQEflRlGHT DEPOSIT. 



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A Child's Garden 
of Verses 



By 



Robert Louis Stevenson 






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With illustrations by 
Bessie Collins Pease 



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New York 

Dodge Publishing Company 

23 East 20th Street 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
fwc Oopies Received 

AUG 7 1905 

Gopyngni entry _ 

/ £3? if 5 

COP* 6. 






Copyright, 1905, by 
Dodge Publishing Company. 

First edition, March, 1905. 




CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Armies in the Fire 84 

At the Sea-Side 16 

Auntie's Skirts 27 

Autumn Fires 98 

Bed in Summer 14 

Block City 81 

Child Alone, The 71 

Cow, The 41 

Dumb Soldier, The 96 

Escape at Bed-Time 39 

Envoys 103 

Fairy Bread 57 

Farewell to the Farm 63 

Flowers, The 94 

Foreign Children 47 

Foreign Lands 23 

From a Railway Carriage . 58 

Garden Days 89 

Gardener, The 99 

Good and Bad Children 46 

Good Boy, A 38 

Good Play, A 29 

Happy Thought 42 

Hayloft, The 62 

Historical Associations 102 

Keepsake Mill 44 

Lamplighter, The 49 

Land of Counterpane, The 32 

Land of Nod, The 34 

(n) 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Land of Story-Books, The 82 

Little Land, The 85 

Looking Forward 31 

Looking-Glass River 55 

Marching Song 40 

Moon, The 52 

My Bed Is a Boat 51 

My Kingdom 75 

My Shadow 36 

My Ship and I 74 

My Treasures 79 

Nest Eggs 92 

Night and Day 90 

Northwest Passage 65 

Picture-Books in Winter 77 

Pirate Story 21 

Rain : 19 

Singing 31 

Summer Sun 95 

Sun's Travels, The 48 

Swing, The 53 

System 35 

Thought, A 15 

Time to Rise 54 

To Any Reader 113 

To Auntie 106 

To Minnie 107 

To My Mother 105 

To My Name-Child in 

To Willie and Henrietta 104 

Travel 25 

Unseen Playmate, The 72 

Where Go the Boats? 30 

Whole Duty of Children 18 

Wind, The 42 

Windy Nights 24 

Winter-Time 59 

Young Night Thought 17 

(12) 



A Child's Garden of Verses. 




(13) 



BED IN SUMMER. 

IN winter I get up at night 
And dress by yellow candle-light. 
In summer, quite the other way, 
I have to go to bed by day. 

I have to go to bed and see 
The birds still hopping on the tree, 
Or hear the grown-up people's feet 
Still going past me in the street. 

And does it not seem hard to you, 
When all the sky is clear and blue, 
And I should like so much to play, 
To have to go to bed by day? 



(14) 




A THOUGHT. 

IT is very nice to think 
The world is full of meat and drink, 
With little children saying grace 
In every Christian kind of place. 



(15) 




AT THE SEA-SIDE. 



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HEN I was down beside the sea 
A wooden spade they gave to me 
To dig the sandy shore. 



My holes were empty like a cup. 
In every hole the sea came up, 
Till it could come no more. 



(16) 



YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT. 

ALL night long and every night, 
When my mama put out the light, 
I see the people marching by, 
As plain as day, before my eye. 

Armies and emperors and kings, 
All carrying different kinds of things, 
And marching in so grand a way, 
You never saw the like by day. 

So fine a show was never seen 
At the great circus on the green; 
For every kind of beast and man 
Is marching in that caravan. 

At first they move a little slow, 
But still the faster on they go, 
And still beside them close I keep 
Until we reach the town of Sleep. 



(17) 



WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN. 

A CHILD should always say what's true 
And speak when he is spoken to, 
A nd behave mannerly at table ; 
At least as far as he is able. 



(18) 



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RAIN. 



THE rain is raining all around 
It falls on field and tree, 
It rains on the umbrellas here, 
And on the ships at sea. 




(19) 



PIRATE STORY. 

THREE of us afloat in the meadow by the swing 
Three of us aboard in the basket on the lea. 
Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring, 
And waves are on the meadow like the waves there 
are at sea. 

Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're afloat, 
Wary of the weather and steering by a star? 

Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat, 
To Providence, or Babylon, or off to Malabar? 

Hi ! but here's a squadron a-rowing on the sea — 
Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a roar! 

Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad as they 
can be, 
The wicket is the harbor and the garden is the shore. 



(21) 



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FOREIGN LANDS. 

UP into the cherry tree 
Who should climb but little me? 
I held the trunk with both my hands 
And looked abroad on foreign lands. 

I saw the next door garden lie, 
Adorned with flowers, before my eye, 
And many pleasant places more 
That I had never seen before. 

I saw the dimpling river pass 
And be the sky's blue looking-glass; 
The dusty roads go up and down 
With people tramping in to town. 

If I could find a higher tree 
Farther and farther I should see, 
To where the grown-up river slips 
Into the sea among the ships, 

To where the roads on either hand 
Lead onward into fairy land, 
Where all the children dine at five, 
And all the playthings come alive. 

(23) 



WINDY NIGHTS. 

WHENEVER the moon and stars are set, 
Whenever the wind is high, 
All night long in the dark and wet, 

A man goes riding by. 
Late in the night when the fires are out, 
Why does he gallop and gallop about? 

Whenever the trees are crying aloud, 

And ships are tossed at sea, 
By, on the highway, low and loud, 

By at the gallop goes he. 
By at the gallop he goes, and then 
By he comes back at the gallop again. 



(24) 



TRAVEL. 

I Where the golden apples grow; — 
SHOULD like to rise and go 
Where below another sky 
Parrot islands anchored lie, 
And, watched by cockatoos and goats, 
Lonely Crusoes building boats; — 
Where in sunshine reaching out 
Eastern cities, miles about, 
Are with mosque and minaret 
Among sandy gardens set, 
And the rich goods from near and far 
Hang for sale in the bazaar; — > 
Where the Great Wall round China goes, 
And on one side the desert blows, 
And with bell and voice and drum, 
Cities on the other hum; — 
Where are forests, hot as fire, 
Wide as England, tall as a spire, 
Full of apes and cocoa-nuts 
And the negro hunters' huts ; — 
Where the knotty crocodile 
Lies and blinks in the Nile, 



(25) 



And the red flamingo flies 
Hunting fish before his eyes; — 
Where in jungles, near and far, 
Man-devouring tigers are, 
Lying close and giving ear 
Lest the hunt be drawing near, 
Or a comer-by be seen 
Swinging in a palanquin; — 
Where among the desert sands 
Some deserted city stands, 
All its children, sweep and prince, 
Grown to manhood ages since; 
Not a foot in street or house, 
Not a stir of child or mouse, 
And when kindly falls the night, 
In all the town no spark of light. 
There I'll come when I'm a man 
With a camel caravan; 
Light a fire in the gloom 
Of some dusty dining-room; 
See the pictures on the walls, 
Heroes, fights and festivals; 
And in a corner find the toys 
Of the old Egyptian boys. 



(26) 




AUNTIE'S SKIRTS. 

WHENEVER Auntie 
moves around, 
Her dresses make a curi- 
ous sound, 
They trail behind her up 

the floor, 
And trundle after through 
the door. 



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(27) 



A GOOD PLAY. 

WE built a ship upon the stairs 
All made of the back-bedroom chairs, 
And rilled it full of sofa pillows 
To go a-sailing on the billows. 

We took a saw and several nails, 
And water in the nursery pails; 
And Tom said, "Let us also take 
An apple and a slice of cake;" — 
Which was enough for Tom and me 
To go a-sailing on, till tea. 

We sailed along for days and days, 
And had the very best of plays; 
But Tom fell out and hurt his knee, 
So there was no one left but me. 



(29) 



WHERE GO THE BOATS? 

DARK brown is the river, 
Golden is the sand. 
It flows along for ever, 
With trees on either hand. 

Green leaves a-floating, 

Castles of the foam, 
Boats of mine a-boating — 

Where will all come home? 

On goes the river 

And out past the mill, 

Away down the valley, 
Away down the hill. 

Away down the river, 

A hundred miles or more, 

Other little children 

Shall bring my boats ashore. 



(30) 



SINGING. 



OF speckled eggs the birdie sings 
And nests among the trees ; 
The sailor sings of ropes and things 
In ships upon the seas. 

The children sing in far Japan, 
The children sing in Spain; 

The organ with the organ man 
Is singing in the rain. 



LOOKING FORWARD. 

WHEN I am grown to man's estate 
I shall be very proud and great, 
And tell the other girls and boys 
Not to meddle with my toys. 



(31) 



THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE. 

WHEN I was sick and lay a-bed, 
I had two pillows at my head, 
And all my toys beside me lay 
To keep me happy all the day. 

And sometimes for an hour or so 
I watched my leaden soldiers go 
With different uniforms and drills, 
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills \ 

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets 
All up and down among the sheets; 
Or brought my trees and houses out, 
And planted cities all about. 

I was the giant great and still 
That sits upon the pillow-hill 
And sees before him, dale and plain, 
The pleasant land of counterpane. 



(32) 



THE LAND OF NOD. 

FROM breakfast on through all the day 
At home among my friends I stay, 
But every night I go abroad 
Afar into the land of Nod. 

All by myself I have to go, 

With none to tell me what to do — 

All alone beside the streams 

And up the mountain sides of dreams. 

The strangest things are there for me, 
Both things to eat and things to see. 
And many frightening sights abroad 
Till morning in the land of Nod. 

Try as I like to find the way, 
I never can get back by day, 
Nor can remember plain and clear 
The curious music that I hear. 



(34) 



ESCAPE AT BEDTIME. 

THE lights from the parlor and kitchen shone out 
Through the blinds and the windows and bars; 
And high overhead and all moving about, 

There were thousands of millions of stars. 
There ne'er were such thousands of leaves on a tree, 

Nor of people in church or the Park, 
As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me, 
And that glittered and winked in the dark. 

The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all, 

And the star of the sailor, and Mars, 
These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall 

Would be half full of water and stars. 
They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries, 

And they soon had me packed into bed ; 
But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes, 

And the stars going round in my head. 



(39) 



MARCHING SONG. 

BRING the comb and play upon it ! 
Marching, here we come! 
Willie cocks his highland bonnet, 
Johnnie beats the drum. 

Mary Jane commands the party, 

Peter leads the rear; 
Feet in time, alert and hearty, 

Each a Grenadier! 

All in the most martial manner 

Marching double-quick; 
While the napkin like a banner 

Waves upon the stick! 

Here's enough of fame and pillage, 

Great commander Jane ! 
Now that we've been round the village, 

Let's go home again. 



(40) 



SYSTEM. 

EVERY night my prayers I say, 
And get my dinner every day ; 
And every day that I've been good, 
I get an orange after food. 

The child that is not clean and neat, 
With lots of toys and things to eat, 
He is a naughty child, I'm sure — 
Or else his dear papa is poor. 




(35) 




MY SHADOW. 

I HAVE a little shadow that goes in and out with 
me, 
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. 
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head ; 
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my 
bed. 

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to 

grow — 
Not at all like proper children, which is always very 

slow; 
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber 

ball, 
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of 

him at all. 



(36) 



He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, 
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. 
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can 

see; 
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks 

to me! 

One morning, very early, before the sun was up, 
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup ; 
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, 
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in 
bed. 




(37) 



A GOOD BOY. 

I WOKE before the morning, I was happy all the 
day. 
I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to 
play. 

And now at last the sun is going down behind the 

wood, 
And I am very happy, for I know that I've been good. 

My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth 

and fair, 
And I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my 

prayer. 

I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise, 
No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight 
my eyes. 

But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn, 
And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the 
lawn. 



(38) 



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O you that are so strong and cold, 
O blower, are you young or old? 
Are you a beast of field and tree, 
Or just a stronger child than me? 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O'wind, that sings so loud a song! 




(43) 



KEEPSAKE MILL. 

OVER the borders, a sin without pardon, 
Breaking the branches and crawling below, 
Out through the breach in the wall of the garden, 
Down by the banks of the river, we go. 

Here is the mill with the humming of thunder, 
Here is the weir with the wonder of foam, 

Here is the sluice with the race running under — 
Marvellous places, though handy to home! 

Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller, 
Stiller the note of the birds on the hill ; 

Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller, 
Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill. 

Years may go by, and the wheel in the river 
Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day, 

Wheel and keep roaring and foaming forever 
Long after all of the boys are away. 

(44) 



Home from the Indies and home from the ocean, 
Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home; 

Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion, 
Turning and churning that river to foam. 

You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled, 

I with your marble of Saturday last, 
Honored and old and all gaily apparelled, 

Here we shall meet and remember the past. 



(45) 



GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN. 

CHILDREN, you are very little, 
And your bones are very brittle ; 
If you would grow great and stately, 
You must try to walk sedately. 

You must still be bright and quiet, 
And content with simple diet; 
And remain, through all bewild'ring, 
Innocent and honest children. 

Happy hearts and happy faces, 
Happy play in grassy places — 
That was how, in ancient ages, 
Children grew to kings and sages. 

But the unkind and the unruly, 
And the sort who eat unduly, 
They must never hope for glory — 
Theirs is quite a different story! 

Cruel children, crying babies, 
All grow up as geese and gabies, 
Hated, as their age increases, 
By their nephews and their nieces. 

(46) 



THE COW. 

THE friendly cow all red and white, 
I love with all my heart: 
She gives me cream with all her might, 
To eat with apple-tart. 

She wanders lowing here and there, 

And yet she cannot stray, 
All in the pleasant open air, 

The pleasant light of day; 

And blown by all the winds that pass 
And wet with all the showers, 

She walks among the meadow grass 
And eats the meadow flowers. 



(41) 



HAPPY THOUGHT. 

L HE world is so full of a number of things, 
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings. 



THE WIND. 

I SAW you toss the kites on high 
And blow the birds about the sky; 
And all around I heard you pass, 
Like ladies' skirts across the grass — 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 

I saw the different things you did, 
But always you yourself you hid. 
I felt you push, I heard you call, 
I could not see yourself at all — 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 



(42) 



FOREIGN CHILDREN. 

LITTLE Indian, Sioux or Crow, 
Little frosty Eskimo, 
Little Turk or Japanee, 
O! don't you wish that you were me? 

You have seen the scarlet trees 

And the lions over seas ; 

You have eaten ostrich eggs, 

And turned the turtles off their legs. 

Such a life is very fine, 
But it's not so nice as mine: 
You must often, as you trod, 
Have wearied not to be abroad. 

You have curious things to eat, 
I am fed on proper meat; 
You must dwell beyond the foam, 
But I am safe and live at home. 

Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, 

Little frosty Eskimo, 

Little Turk or Japanee, 

C ! don't you wish that you were me ? 



(47) 



THE SUN'S TRAVELS. 

THE sun is not a-bed, when I 
At night upon my pillow lie; 
Still round the earth his way he takes, 
And morning after morning makes. 

While here at home, in shining day, 
We round the sunny garden play, 
Each little Indian sleepy-head 
Is being kissed and put to bed. 

And when at eve I rise from tea, 
Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea ; 
And all the children in the West 
Are getting up and being dressed. 



(48) 



THE LAMPLIGHTER. 

MY tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the 
sky; 
It's time to take the window to see Leerie going 
by; 
For every night at teatime and before you take your 

seat, 
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the 
street. 

Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, 
And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be ; 
But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I'm 

to do, 
O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps 

with you! 

For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door, 
And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more ; 
And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with 

light; 
O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night ! 



(49) 



MY BED IS A BOAT. 

MY bed is like a little boat ; 
Nurse helps me in when I embark; 
She girds me in my sailor's coat 
And starts me in the dark. 

At night, I go on board and say 

Good night to all my friends on shore, 

I shut my eyes and sail away 
And see and hear no more. 

And sometimes things to bed I take, 
As prudent sailors have to do; 

Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake, 
Perhaps a toy or two. 

All night across the dark we steer; 

But when the day returns at last, 
Safe in my room, beside the pier, 

I find my vessel fast. 



(5i) 



THE MOON. 

THE moon has a face like the clock in the hall; 
She shines on thieves on the garden wall, 
On streets and fields and harbor quays, 
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees. 

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, 
The howling dog by the door of the house, 
The bat that lies in bed at noon, 
All love to be out by the light of the moon. 

But all of the things that belong to the day 
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way ; 
And flowers and children close their eyes 
Till up in the morning the sun shall arise. 



(52) 



THE SWING. 

HOW do you like to go up in a swing, 
Up in the air so blue? 
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing 
Ever a child can do! 

Up in the air and over the wall, 

Till I can see so wide, 
Rivers and trees and cattle and all 

Over the countryside — 

Till I look down on the garden green, 
Down on the roof so brown — 

Up in the air I go flying again, 
Up in the air and down ! 




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(53) 




TIME TO RISE. 

A BIRDIE with a yellow bill 
Hopped upon the window sill, 
Cocked his shining eye and said: 
"Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!' 



(54) 



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LOOKING-GLASS RIVER. 

MOOTH it slides upon its travel, 
Here a wimple, there a gleam— 
O the clean gravel! 
O the smooth stream! 



Sailing blossoms, silver fishes, 
Paven pools as clear as air — 
How a child wishes 
To live down there! 

We can see our colored faces 
Floating on the shaken pool 
Down in cool places, 
Dim and very cool; 

Till a wind or water wrinkle, 

Dipping marten, plumping trout, 
Spreads in a twinkle 
And blots all out. 

(55) 



See the rings pursue each other ; 
All below grows black as night, 
Just as if mother 
Had blown out the light! 

Patience, children, just a minute — 
See the spreading circles die; 
The stream and all in it 
Will clear by-and-by. 



(56) 



FAIRY BREAD. 

COME up here, O dusty feet ! 
Here is fairy bread to eat. 
Here in my retiring room, 
Children, you may dine 
On the golden smell of broom 

And the shade of pine; 
And when you have eaten well, 
Fairy stories hear and tell. 



(57) 



FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE. 

FASTER than fairies, faster than witches, 
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; 
And charging along like troops in a battle, 
All through the meadows the horses and cattle : 
All of the sights of the hill and the plain 
Fly as thick as driving rain; 
And ever again, in the wink of an eye, 
Painted stations whistle by. 

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, 
All by himself and gathering brambles, 
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes ; 
And there is the green for stringing the daisies ! 
Here is a cart run away in the road 
Lumping along with man and load; 
And here is a mill and there is a river : 
Each a glimpse and gone forever! 



(58) 



WINTER-TIME. 

LATE lies the wintry sun a-bed, 
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head ; 
Blinks but an hour or two ; and then, 
A blood-red orange, sets again. 

Before the stars have left the skies, 
At morning in the dark I rise; 
And shivering in my nakedness, 
By the cold candle, bathe and dress. 

Close by the jolly fire I sit 
To warm my frozen bones a bit; 
Or with a reindeer sled, explore 
The colder countries round the door. 

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap 
Me in my comforter and cap; 
The cold wind burns my face, and blows 
Its frosty pepper up my nose. 

Black are my steps on silver sod; 
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; 
And tree and house, and hill and lake, 
Are frosted like a wedding-cake. 



(59) 



Or with a reindeer sled, explore 
The colder countries round the door. 



(60) 



THE HAYLOFT. 

THROUGH all the pleasant meadow-side 
The grass grew shoulder-high, 
Till the shining scythes went far and wide 
And cut it down to dry. 

These green and sweetly smelling crops 

They led in wagons home ; 
And they piled them here in mountain tops 

For mountaineers to roam. 

Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, 
Mount Eagle and Mount High; — 

The mice that in these mountains dwell, 
No happier are than I ! 

O what a joy to clamber there, 

O what a place for play, 
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, 

The happy hills of hay! 



(62) 



FAREWELL TO THE FARM. 

THE coach is at the door at last; 
The eager children, mounting fast 
And kissing hands, in chorus sing : 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 

To house and garden, field and lawn, 
The meadow gates we swang upon, 
To pump and stable, tree and swing, 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 

And fare you well for evermore, 
O ladder at the hayloft door, 
O hayloft where the cobwebs cling, 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 

Crack goes the whip, and off we go; 
The trees and houses smaller grow; 
Last, round the woody turn we swing; 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 



(63) 




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NORTHWEST PASSAGE. 
I. Good Night. 

WHEN the bright lamp is carried in, 
The sunless hours again begin; 
O'er all without, in field and lane, 
The haunted night returns again. 

Now we behold the embers flee 
About the firelit hearth; and see 
Our faces painted as we pass, 
Like pictures, on the window glass. 

Must we to bed indeed? Well then, 
Let us arise and go like men, 
And face with an undaunted tread 
The long black passage up to bed. 

Farewell, O brother, sister, sire! 
O pleasant party round the fire ! 
The songs you sing, the tales you tell, 
Till far to-morrow, fare ye will! 



(65) 



II. Shadow March. 

All round the house is the jet-black night; 

It stares through the window pane; 
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, 

And it moves with the moving flame. 

Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum, 
With the breath of the Bogie in my hair, 

And all round the candle the crooked shadows come, 
And go marching along up the stair. 

The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp, 
The shadow of the child that goes to bed — 

All the wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp, tramp, 
With the black night overhead. 



(67) 



III. In Port. 

Last, to the chamber where I lie 
My fearful footsteps patter nigh, 
And come from out the cold and gloom 
Into my warm and cheerful room. 

There, safe arrived, we turn about 
To keep the coming shadows out, 
And close the happy door at last 
On all the perils that we past. 

Then, when mama goes by to bed, 
She shall come in with tip-toe tread, 
And see me lying warm and fast 
And in the Land of Nod at last. 



(69) 



The Child Alone. 




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(7i) 



THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE. 

WHEN children are playing alone on the green 
In comes the playmate that never was seen. 
When children are happy and lonely and good, 
The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood. 

Nobody heard him and nobody saw, 

His is a picture you never could draw, 

But he's sure to be present, abroad or at home, 

When children are happy and playing alone. 

He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass, 
He sings when you tinkle the musical glass ; 
Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why, 
The Friend of the Children is sure to be by ! 

He loves to be little, he hates to be big, 
'Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig; 
'Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin 
That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win. 



(72) 



'Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed, 
Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head; 
For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or shelf, 
'Tis he will take care of your playthings himself ! 



(73) 



MY SHIP AND I. 

OIT'S I that am the captain of a tidy little ship, 
Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond; 
And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all 

about ; 
But when I'm a little older, I shall find the secret out 
How to send my vessel sailing on beyond. 

For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at the helm, 

And the dolly I intend to come alive ; 
And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I shall 

go, 
It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes 
blow 
And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive. 

O it's then you'll see me sailing through the rushes 
and the reeds, 

And you'll hear the water singing at the prow ; 
For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and explore, 
To land upon the island where no dolly was before, 

And to fire the penny cannon in the bow. 



(74) 



MY KINGDOM. 

DOWN by a shining water well 
I found a very little dell, 
No higher than my head. 
The heather and the gorse about 
In summer bloom were coming out, 
Some yellow and some red. 

I called the little pool a sea; 
The little hills were big to me; 

For I am very small. 
I made a boat, I made a town, 
I searched the caverns up and down, 

And named them one and all. 

And all about was mine, I said, 
The little sparrows overhead, 

The little minnows, too. 
This was the world and I was king, 
For me the bees came by to sing, 

For me the swallows flew. 



(75) 



I played there were no deeper seas, 
Nor any wider plains than these, 

Nor other kings than me. 
At last I heard my mother call 
Out from the house at evenfall, 

To call me home to tea. 

And I must rise and leave my dell, 
And leave my dimpled water well, 

And leave my heather blooms. 
Alas! and as my home I neared, 
How very big my nurse appeared, 

How great and cool the rooms ! 



(76) 



PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER. 

SUMMER fading, winter comes — 
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, 
Window robins, winter rooks, 
And the picture story-books. 

Water now is turned to stone 
Nurse and I can walk upon; 
Still we find the flowing brooks 
In the picture story-books. 

All the pretty things put by, 
Wait upon the children's eye, 
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, 
In the picture story-books. 

We may see how all things are, 
Seas and cities, near and far, 
And the flying fairies' looks, 
In the picture story-books. 



(77) 



How am I to sing your praise, 
Happy chimney-corner days, 
Sitting safe in nursery nooks, 
Reading picture story-books? 




(78) 



MY TREASURES. 

THESE nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest 
Where all my lead soldiers are lying at rest, 
Were gathered in autumn by nursie and me 
In a wood with a well by the side of the sea. 

This whistle we made (and how clearly it sounds!) 
By the side of a field at the end of the grounds, 
Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my own, 
It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone! 

The stone, with the white and the yellow and gray* 
We discovered I cannot tell how far away; 
And I carried it back, although weary and cold, 
For though father denies it, I'm sure it is gold. 

But of all my treasures the last is the king, 
For there's very few children possess such a thing;; 
And that is a chisel, both handle and blade, 
Which a man who was really a carpenter made. 



(79) 



BLOCK CITY. 

WHAT are you able to build with your blocks 
Castles and palaces, temples and docks. 
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam, 
But I can be happy and building at home. 

Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea, 

There I'll establish a city for me : 

A kirk and a mill and a palace beside, 

And a harbor as well where my vessels may ride. 

Great is the palace with pillar and wall, 
A sort of a tower on the top of it all, 
And steps coming down in an orderly way 
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay. 

This one is sailing and that one is moored: 
Hark to the song of the sailors on board! 
And see on the steps of my palace, the kings 
Coming and going with presents and things! 

Now I have done with it, down let it go ! 
All in a moment the town is laid low. 
Block upon block lying scattered and free, 
What is there left of my town by the sea? 

(81) 



Yet as I saw it, I see it again, 
The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men, 
And as long as I live and where'er I may be, 
I'll always remember my town by the sea. 

THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS. 

AT evening when the lamp is lit, 
Around the fire my parents sit; 
They sit at home and talk and sing, 
And do not play at anything. 

Now, with my little gun, I crawl 
All in the dark along the wall, 
And follow round the forest track 
Away behind the sofa back. 

There, in the night, where none can spy, 
All in my hunter's camp I lie, 
And play at books that I have read 
Till it is time to go to bed. 

These are the hills, these are the woods, 
These are my starry solitudes ; 
And there the river by whose brink 
The roaring lions come to drink. 



(82) 



I see the others far away 
As if in firelit camp they lay, 
And I, like to an Indian scout, 
Around their party prowled about. 

So, when my nurse comes in for me, 
Home I return across the sea, 
And go to bed with backward looks 
At my dear land of Story-books. 



(83) 



ARMIES IN THE FIRE. 

THE lamps now glitter down the street; 
Faintly sound the falling feet; 
And the blue even slowly falls 
About the garden trees and walls. 

Now in the falling of the gloom 
The red fire paints the empty room; 
And warmly on the roof it looks, 
And flickers on the backs of books. 

Armies march by tower and spire 
Of cities blazing, in the fire; — 
Till as I gaze with staring eyes, 
The armies fade, the lustre dies. 

Then once again the glow returns ; 
Again the phantom city burns; 
And down the red-hot valley, lo! 
The phantom armies marching go! 

Blinking embers, tell me true 
Where are those armies marching to, 
And what the burning city is 
That crumbles in your furnaces! 



(8 4 ) 




LITTLE LAND. 



WHEN at home alone I sit 
And am very tired of it, 
I have just to shut my eyes 
To go sailing through the skies — 
To go sailing far away 
To the pleasant Land of Play; 
To the fairy land afar 
Where the Little People are; 
Where the clover-tops are trees, 
And the rain-pools are the seas, 
And the leaves like little ships 
Sail about on tiny trips; 

And above the daisy tree 

Through the grasses, 
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee 

Hums and passes. 



(85) 



In that forest to and fro 

I can wander, I can go ; 

See the spider and the fly, 

And the ants go marching by 

Carrying parcels with their feet 

Down the green and grassy street. 

I can in the sorrel sit 

Where the ladybird alit. 

I can climb the jointed grass 

And on high 
See the greater swallows pass 

In the sky, 
And the round sun rolling by 
Heeding no such things as I. 

Through that forest I can pass 
Till, as in a looking-glass, 
Humming fly and daisy tree 
And my tiny self I see, 
Painted very clear and neat 
On the rain-pool at my feet. 
Should a leaflet come to land 
Drifting near to where I stand, 
Straight I'll board that tiny boat 
Round the rain-pool sea to float. 

Little thoughtful creatures sit 
On the grassy coasts of it; 
Little things with lovely eyes 
See me sailing with surprise. 



(86) 



Some are clad in armor green — 
(These have sure to battle been!) 
Some are pied with ev'ry hue, 
Black and crimson, green and blue ; 
Some have wings and swift are gone ;■ 
But they all look kindly on. 

When my eyes I once again 
Open, and see all things plain: 
High bare walls, great bare floor; 
Great big knobs on drawer and door ; 
Great big people perched on chairs, 
Stitching tucks and mending tears, 
Each a hill that I could climb, 
And talking nonsense all the time— 

O dear me, 

That I could be 
A sailor on the rain-pool sea, 
A climber on the clover tree, 
And just come back, a sleepy head, 
Late at night to go to bed. 



(87) 







Garden Days. 



L jr 




(8 9 ) 



NIGHT AND DAY. 

WHEN the golden day is done, 
Through the closing portal, 
Child and garden, flower and sun, 
Vanish all things mortal. 

As the blinding shadows fall 

As the rays diminish, 
Under evening's cloak, they all 

Roll away and vanish. 

Garden darkened, daisy shut, 
Child in bed, they slumber — 

Glow-worm in the highway rut, 
Mice among the lumber. 

In the darkness houses shine, 
Parents move with candles; 

Till on all, the night divine 
Turns the bedroom handles. 

Till at last the day begins 

In the east a-breaking, 
In the hedges and the whins 

Sleeping birds a-waking. 

(90) 



In the darkness shapes of things, 
Houses, trees and hedges, 

Clearer grow ; and sparrow's wings 
Beat on window ledges. 

These shall wake the yawning maid; 

She the door shall open — 
Finding dew on garden glade 

And the morning broken. 

There my garden grows again 

Green and rosy painted, 
As at eve behind the pane 

From my eyes it fainted. 

Just as it was shut away, 

Toy-like in the even, 
Here I see it glow with day 

Under glowing heaven. 

Every path and every plot, 

Every bush of roses, 
Every blue forget-me-not 

Where the dew reposes, 

"Up !" they cry, "the day is come 

On the shining valleys: 
We have beat the morning drum; 

Playmate, join your allies!" 



(9i) 



NEST EGGS. 

BIRDS all the sunny day 
Flutter and quarrel 
Here in the arbor-like 
Tent of the laurel. 

Here in the fork 

The brown nest is seated; 
Four little blue eggs 

The mother keeps heated. 

While we stand watching her, 

Staring like gabies, 
Safe in each egg are the 

Bird's little babies. 

Soon the frail eggs they shall 
Chip, and upspringing 

Make all the April woods 
Merry with singing. 

Younger than we are, 
O children, and frailer, 

Soon in blue air they'll be. 
Singer and sailor. 

(92) 



.**> 



-^^ 



We, so much older, 
Taller and stronger, 

We shall look down on the 
Birdies no longer. 

They shall go flying 
With musical speeches 

High overhead in the 
Tops of the beeches. 



<c_ 



In spite of our wisdom 
And sensible talking, 

We on our feet must go 
Plodding and walking. 




(93) 



THE FLOWERS. 

ALL the names I know from nurse : 
Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, 
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock, 
And the Lady Hollyhock. 

Fairy places, fairy things, 

Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, 

Tiny trees for tiny dames — 

These must all be fairy names ! 

Tiny woods below whose boughs 
Shady fairies weave a house; 
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme, 
Where the braver fairies climb! 

Fair are grown-up people's trees, 
But the fairest woods are these ; 
Where if I were not so tall, 
I should live for good and all. 



(94) 



SUMMER SUN. 

GREAT is the sun and wide he goes 
Through empty heaven without repose; 
And in the blue and glowing days 
More thick than rain he showers his rays. 

Though closer still the blinds we pull 
To keep the shady parlor cool, 
Yet he will find a chink or two 
To slip his golden fingers through. 

The dusty attic spider-clad 
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; 
And through the broken edge of tiles, 
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles. 

Meantime his golden face around 
He bares to all the garden ground, 
And sheds a warm and glittering look 
Among the ivy's inmost nook. 

Above the hills, along the blue, 
Round the bright air with footing true, 
To please the child, to paint the rose, 
The gardener of the World, he goes. 



(95) 




THE DUMB SOLDIER. 

WHEN the grass was closely mown 3 
Walking on the lawn alone, 
In the turf a hole I found 
And hid a soldier underground. 

Spring and daisies came apace; 
Grasses hide my hiding place ; 
Grasses run like a green sea 
O'er the lawn up to my knee. 

Under grass alone he lies, 
Looking up with leaden eyes, 
Scarlet coat and pointed gun, 
To the stars and to the sun. 

When the grass is ripe like grain, 
When the scythe is stoned again, 
When the lawn is shaven clear, 
Then my hole shall reappear. 



(96) 



I shall find him, never fear, 
I shall find my grenadier; 
But for all that's gone and come, 
I shall find my soldier dumb. 

He has lived, a little thing, 
In the grassy woods of spring; 
Done, if he could tell me true, 
Just as I should like to do. 

He has seen the starry hours 
And the springing of the flowers: 
And the fairy things that pass 
In the forests of the grass. 

In the silence he has heard 
Talking bee and ladybird, 
And the butterfly has flown 
O'er him as he lay alone. 

Not a word will he disclose, 
Not a word of all he knows. 
I must lay him on the shelf, 
And make up the tale myself. 



(97) 




AUTUMN FIRES. 

IN the other gardens 
And all up the vale, 
From the autumn bonfires 
See the smoke trail! 

Pleasant summer over 

And all the summer flowers, 
The red fire blazes, 

The gray smoke towers. 

Sing a song of seasons ! 

Something bright in all! 
Flowers in the summer, 

Fires in the fall! 



(98) 



THE GARDENER. 

THE gardener does not love to talk, 
He makes and keeps the gravel walk ; 
And when he puts his tools away, 
He locks the door and takes the key. 

Away behind the currant row 
Where no one else but cook may go, 
Far in the plots, I see him dig, 
Old and serious, brown and big. 

He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue, 
Nor wishes to be spoken to. 
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay, 
And never seems to want to play. 

Silly gardener! summer goes, 
And winter comes with pinching toes, 
When in the garden bare and brown 
You must lay your barrow down. 



LdFC. (99) 



Well now, and while the summer stays, 
To profit by these garden days 
O how much wiser you would be 
To play at Indian wars with me ! 



(ici) 



HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

DEAR Uncle Jim, this garden ground, 
That now you smoke your pipe around, 
Has seen immortal actions done 
And valiant battles lost and won. 

Here we had best on tip-toe tread, 
While I for safety march ahead, 
For this is that enchanted ground 
Where all who loiter slumber sound. 

Here is the sea, here is the sand, 
Here is simple Shepherd's Land, 
Here are the fairy hollyhocks, 
And there are Ali Baba's rocks. 

But yonder, see ! apart and high, 
Frozen Siberia lies ; where I, 
With Robert Bruce and William Tell, 
Was bound by an enchanter's spell 



(102) 



Envoys. 




(103) 



TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA. 



r 



F two may read aright 

These rhymes of old delight 
And house and garden play, 
You two, my cousins, and you only, may 



You in a garden green 
With me were king and queen, 
Were hunter, soldier, tar, 
And all the thousand things that children are. 

Now in the elders' seat 
We rest with quiet feet, 
And from the window-bay 
We watch the children, our successors, play. 

"Time was," the golden head 
Irrevocably said; 
But time which none can bind, 
While flowing fast away, leaves love behind. 



(104) 



TO MY MOTHER. 

YOU too, my mother, read my rhymes 
For love of unforgotten times, 
And you may chance to hear once more 
The little feet along the floor. 



(105) 



TO AUNTIE. 

CHIEF of our aunts — not only I, 
But all your dozen of nurselings cry- 
What did the other children do? 
And what were childhood, wanting you? 



(106) 



TO MINNIE. 

THE red room with the giant bed 
Where none but elders laid their head; 
The little room where you and I 
Did for awhile together lie 
And, simple suitor, I your hand 
In decent marriage did demand; 
The great day nursery, best of all, 
With pictures pasted on the wall 
And leaves upon the blind — 
A pleasant room wherein to wake 
And hear the leafy garden shake 
And rustle in the wind — 
And pleasant there to lie in bed 
And see the pictures overhead— 
The wars about Sebastopol, 
The grinning guns along the wall, 
The daring escalade, 
The plunging ships, the bleating sheep, 
The happy children ankle-deep 
And laughing as they wade : 



(107) 



MOTMHipvwii ipi i ■ ii .in immmomammmmmmmmmmm 



I 





But when we climbed upon a chair, 
Behold the gorgeous East was there ! 



(108) 



All these are vanished clean away, 
And the old manse is changed to-day ; 
It wears an altered face 
And shields a stranger race. 
The river, on from mill to mill, 
Flows past our childhood's garden still; 
But ah! we children never more 
Shall watch it from the water-door! 
Below the yew — it still is there — 
Our phantom voices haunt the air 
As we were still at play, 
And I can hear them call and say: 
"How far is it to Babylon?" 

Ah, far enough, my dear, 

Far, far enough from here — 

Yet you have farther gone! 

"Can I get there by candelight?" 

So goes the old refrain. 

I do not know — perchance you might — 

But only, children, hear it right, 

Ah, never to return again! 

The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt, 

Shall break on hill and plain, 

And put all stars and candles out 

Ere we be young again. 



(109) 



To you in distant India, these 

I send across the seas, 

Nor count it far across. 

For which of us forgets 

The Indian cabinets, 

The bones of antelope, the wings of albetross, 

The pied and painted birds and beans, 

The junks and bangles, beads and screens, 

The gods and sacred bells, 

And the loud-humming, twisted shells ! 

The level of the parlor floor 

Was honest, homely, Scottish shore; 

But when we climbed upon a chair, 

Behold the gorgeous East was there ! 

Be this a fable; and behold 

Me in the parlor as of old, 

And Minnie just above me set 

In the quaint Indian cabinet! 

Smiling and kind, you grace a shelf 

Too high for me to reach myself. 

Reach down a hand, my dear, and take 

These rhymes for old acquaintance' sake ! 



(no) 



TO MY NAME-CHILD. 



I. 



SOME day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn 
with proper speed, 
Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read. 
Then shall you discover, that your name was printed 

down 
By the English printers, long before, in London town. 

In the great and busy city where the East and West 

are met, 
All the little letters did the English printer set ; 
While you thought of nothing, and were still too 

young to play, 
Foreign people thought of you in places far away. 



(in) 



Ay, and while you slept, a baby, over all the English 

lands 
Other little children took the volume in their hands; 
Other children questioned, in their homes across the 

seas: 
Who was little Louis, won't you tell us-, mother, 

please? 



II. 



Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it down and 

go and play. 
Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of Monterey, 
Watching ali the mighty whalebones, lying buried by 

the breeze, 
Tiny sandy-pipers, and the huge Pacific seas. 

And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog rolls 

to you, 
Long ere you could read it, how I told you what to do ; 
And that while you thought of no one, nearly half the 

world away 
Some one thought of Louis on the beach of Monterey ! 



(112) 



TO ANY READER. 

AS from the house your mother sees 
You playing round the garden trees, 
So you may see, if you will look 
Through the windows of this book, 
Another child, far, far away, 
And in another garden, play. 
But do not think you can at all, 
By knocking on the window, call 
That child to hear you. He intent 
Is all on his play-business bent, 
He does not hear; he will not look, 
Nor yet be lured out of this book. 
For, long ago, the truth to say, 
He has grown up and gone away, 
And it is but a child of air 
That lingers in the garden there. 



(113) 




Lff f 4 e 22 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 546 346 4 













in 



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